t must be in the front room that
the bereaved girl was lying--the girl who, but a year ago, had debated
with such naive self-importance whether or not it was her duty to take a
lover. Gyp summoned courage to tap gently. The economic agent opened the
door an inch, but, seeing who it was, slipped her robust and handsome
person through into the corridor.

"You, my dear!" she said in a whisper. "That's nice!"

"How is she?"

"Fairly well--considering. You know about it?"

"Yes; can I see her?"

"I hardly think so. I can't make her out. She's got no spirit, not an
ounce. She doesn't want to get well, I believe. It's the man, I expect."
And, looking at Gyp with her fine blue eyes, she asked: "Is that it? Is
he tired of her?"

Gyp met her gaze better than she had believed possible.

"Yes, nurse."

The economic agent swept her up and down. "It's a pleasure to look at
you. You've got quite a colour, for you. After all, I believe it MIGHT
do her good to see you. Come in!"

Gyp passed in behind her, and stood gazing, not daring to step forward.
What a white face, with eyes closed, with fair hair still damp on the
forehead, with one white hand lying on the sheet above her heart! What
a frail madonna of the sugar-plums! On the whole of that bed the only
colour seemed the gold hoop round the wedding-finger.

The economic agent said very quietly:

"Look, my dear; I've brought you a nice visitor."

Daphne Wing's eyes and lips opened and closed again. And the awful
thought went through Gyp: 'Poor thing! She thought it was going to be
him, and it's only me!' Then the white lips said:

"Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen, it's you--it is kind of you!" And the eyes opened
again, but very little, and differently.

The economic agent slipped away. Gyp sat down by the bed and timidly
touched the hand.

Daphne Wing looked at her, and two tears slowly ran down her cheeks.

"It's over," she said just audibly, "and there's nothing now--it was
dead, you know. I don't want to live. Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen, why can't they
let me die, too?"

Gyp bent over and kissed the hand, unable to bear the sight of those two
slowly rolling tears. Daphne Wing went on:

"You ARE good to me. I wish my poor little baby hadn't--"

Gyp, knowing her own tears were wetting that hand, raised herself and
managed to get out the words:

"Bear up! Think of your work!"

"Dancing! Ho!" She gave the least laugh ever heard. "It seems so long
ago."

"Yes; but now it'll all c